Digging Dung
by Bruno
Summary: Mundungus Fletcher is eighteen and broke. Together with a friend he comes up with the idea of the century -to rob Gringotts.


Disclaimer: HP is the property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury books, Scholastic books, and Warner Brothers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Thanks to Scarlet and Pandora for betaing.  
  
Digging Dung  
  
Mundungus placed his trunk beside the bed in his room, and sat down on the bed. Slowly he rocked up and down on the bed, and heard the despondent creaks of the springs in the mattress. A fly tried to force its way through the window, and the speckles of dust shimmered in the light.  
  
It was a warm summer evening in June 1969. Now he was officially an adult, Hogwarts graduate and all. He didn't feel much different than he had a month ago.  
  
It was two hours since he had got off the train, together with his schoolmate Queenie and her little brother Geoff he had walked through the streets of London enjoying the sun and the unfamiliar freedom. But now, he was filled with a sinking feeling of doubt. He was eighteen years old and the future stretched itself out before him, an eternity of years for him to fill.  
  
Well, no point hanging around in his room. He stood up and walked out into the glum and narrow alleyway, where he found Geoff sitting on the stairs to his house, the usual sour expression decorating his face.  
  
"Coming?" Dung asked him.  
  
Without a word Geoff got up and towered over him. Geoff wasn't older than fourteen, but already he was a head taller than Dung. They went into Diagon Alley and visited Queenie in her room above Madam Malkin's; a small room painted white, with big windows facing the busy street. She was unpacking her clothes, stuffing them all into the generous wardrobe in the corner. With a groan Dung stretched out on her bed, while Geoff leaned into the windowsill looking utterly bored.  
  
"There was an owl from the Ministry waiting for me when I got in," Queenie said with a proud voice. "They expect me at 9 AM on Monday. I made this." She showed them a tiny 'Hufflepuff Power' banner, before she rolled it up and placed it safely inside the wardrobe. "I'm going to keep it in my cubicle."  
  
"The colours are all wrong," Geoff muttered.  
  
She pretended not to hear him, and turned to Dung instead. "So, what will you do? You're not serious about that idea of yours?"  
  
"'Course I am," Dung replied calmly. "I just 'ave to find the right band."  
  
Queenie rolled her eyes. "You know, I don't think being a manager's going to make you rich..."  
  
"Depends on the band, doesn't it?" he smiled back to her. "If I can find a band that's good enough, I'll be sickeningly rich. Some sort of...the wizarding world's answer to the Muggle's Rolling Stones, or some'at. I'll just gotta find 'em first."  
  
"Well, you're not making much of an effort, are you?"  
  
"Give me a chance! I've just got off the train, for Merlin's sake."  
  
Geoff snickered, and resumed looking out over Diagon Alley. "So, what do we do now?" he asked. "We just gonna stand 'ere looking good all day, or should we do some'at?" He gave Dung a humorous glance. "Maybe look for that miracle band?"  
  
"It's something, Geoff," Queenie corrected him. "And remember the H's."  
  
Geoff scowled at her. "I'm not staying here for the rest of the day," he muttered, and deliberately over-pronounced the h.  
  
Queenie stared back at him, her mouth drawn into a thin line. "I've got to hang up my curtains," she said. "And the pictures. Perhaps you'd like to help me, Dung?"  
  
Dung got to his feet. "'Course I would, but I 'aven't unpacked yet. See you later, okay?"  
  
She shrugged as the two boys left.  
  
Diagon Alley was crowded, and they sat down on the marble stairs of Gringott's. "I'm so sick of 'er correcting me all the time," Geoff muttered and picked out a package of cigarettes from his pocket. Dung reached out his hand and took one for himself, and lit it with his wand before offering the flame to the younger boy. "Sometimes she be'aves like she's my Mum. I 'ate that."  
  
Dung made vague sounds of sympathy as he listened to Geoff's rant. His mind was somewhere else, though. Queenie did have a point; what should he do? He couldn't continue to live off his foster father forever; would he be forced to crawl down to the Ministry to the janitor job he had been offered there? Merlin forbid!  
  
"Didja know the spider-man just died?" Geoff's comment made Dung look over the street and into the Alley, where he could see the wall of the spider shop.  
  
"Filthy rich, 'e was, and none to take over the money." Geoff took the last drag of the cigarette, and crushed the stump under his heel.  
  
"'O gets the money, then?"  
  
"The Ministry takes it all if no one claims it after six months, I 'eard Mike talk 'bout it just now. It's a bugger, eh? That old fart never spent a Knut, and 'ere we are; can't even afford a butterbeer." The younger boy spat on the dusty ground with contempt. "'Oever said life's fair was a lying bastard."  
  
An idea entered Dung's brain as he was staring at the uninviting stone wall of the spider shop; an idea so high and wild it almost made him choke from excitement. He grabbed Geoff's arm and dragged him to his feet and into the Alley.  
  
"What?"  
  
For a second Dung just focused on breathing. "Don't you see?" he said. "It's a bloody present!"  
  
Geoff stared at him with a vacant expression, his mouth open.  
  
Dung snorted impatiently. "Lots of money with no owner," he explained carefully. "We need cash. We get cash. Everybody's 'appy. Got it?"  
  
Geoff face turned brick red, and Dung could see the thoughts going through his mind; confusion, dawning enthusiasm, and something that looked suspiciously like fear.  
  
"You're not afraid, are ya...?"  
  
"'Course I'm not afraid!" Geoff was highly indignant. "But that would be theft!"  
  
"The bloke's dead! It's not theft. We need these Galleons. What do you think the Ministry's gonna do wiv 'em? Buy floor polish or paper clips!" Dung licked his lips, and started talking about the prosperity that awaited them. "Imagine what we could do; I could get a nice office and start my career. You could buy that Cleansweep you want so much! Shove it down the throats of them middle class schoolmates of yours."  
  
Geoff's eyes were shining. "You're right," he said. "But 'ow do we do it? We can't just drop in and tell 'em to give us the money. Them goblins make my skin crawl."  
  
"We need a plan," Dung said secretively. "Let's go up to my room; too many people out 'ere."  
  
Together they walked down the Alley. Dung walked first, with an almost insufferable smugness on his face, and after him came Geoff, struggling to maintain his usual mask of cool resentment. They both looked like cats that had just swallowed the cream.  
  
****  
  
Geoff had got a job at Florean Fortesque's Ice Cream Parlor. Just for a few weeks over the summer, and only two days each week, but because of this Dung had to visit Gringott's on his own the following day.  
  
He stood outside the enormous marble building and tried to calm the butterflies in his stomach. He straightened the cloak he had borrowed from his foster father and ran a hand over his hair, which was combed back in a ponytail to keep it tidy. Still he looked shifty and unkempt; for some reason Dung was one of those people who looked untidy no matter what item of clothing he put on.  
  
He closed his eyes and took the last drag of his cigarette, before he placed his left foot on the lowest step of the stairs. Let the show begin, he thought as he ascended the shiny white surface. The doors were impressive, twice as tall as Dung and equally wide. He grabbed the silver handle and opened the door, and walked into the bank.  
  
He had never been inside Gringott's before, and was taken aback by the magnitude of it all; the only thing he could compare it with was the Great Hall at Hogwarts. There was a swarm of wizards and witches inside, and the money! The money was everywhere! Goblins were efficiently counting gleaming Galleons, stacking silver Sickles into towers, sweeping piles of Knuts into sacks. Geoff had a point though, the goblins looked quite intimidating. He approached one of the counters, and the goblin peered at him with malicious black eyes. For a few seconds they just looked at each other, and Dung felt the hairs on his neck stand up as the creature in front of him measured him with a calculating stare.  
  
Dung coughed. "I'm thinking 'bout opening an account," he said, silently cursing the slight tremble in his voice.  
  
"Really?" The goblin replied smoothly.  
  
Dung felt his face turn red. "Yeah." They continued to stare, and Dung wondered if this was the way they greeted every new customer.  
  
Finally the goblin lowered his gaze, and started to pull out parchments from a drawer in his desk. "What kind of account would you be interested in, then?" he said, gathering an impressive heap of papers. "Savings? We have a high interest savings account that might suit your purpose."  
  
"Why don't I just take those leaflets 'ome, and I can look over 'em later," Dung smiled. This place gave him goosebumps, and he wanted out as quickly as possible. "What 'bout security? I wanna know my money's safe, you know."  
  
The goblin gave him the eye again. "Oh, your money will be safe here," he muttered. "Every customer gets his or her own vault underground, and the only way of getting through the doors is if a Gringott's goblin unlocks it. A stranger who gets lost down there will meet a horrible fate indeed."  
  
"So it's impossible to break through the doors?"  
  
"That's what I just said. They say nothing is impossible, but no one managed it so far." The goblin's voice was dry as parchment dust.  
  
Dung gave him his most reassuring smile and picked up the parchments the goblin had found for him. "Well, sounds good enough for me." He started to walk out, but turned back. "Is it true you 'ave dragons down there?" The goblin just gazed at him, and Dung smiled weakly again. "'I'll get back to ya," he muttered and left, feeling extremely relieved once he was outside again.  
  
After returning the cloak he walked into the Ice Cream Parlor, and found Geoff behind the counter. He looked utterly miserable in his outfit, a pink apron and a matching hat over a white shirt. "Nice 'at," Dung grinned, and leaned on the counter.  
  
"Thanks," Geoff answered sardonically. "The 'ole crowd 'as popped by to give their compliments. I'm thrilled."  
  
"Give me an ice cream."  
  
"Do you 'ave money?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then no ice cream. Fortesque kills me if 'e sees me giving out anything for free."  
  
An elderly lady walked into the store and interrupted them. "What flavours do you have?"  
  
Geoff got a slightly desperate expression on his face. "We 'ave over a 'undred flavours, Ma'am," he said. "Chocolate, vanilla, banana, strawberry...» The lady motioned for him to continue. "Rum and raisin, orange, walnut, tutti frutti, sprout-"  
  
Dung sat down at the table in the corner, thinking. That goblin had been serious; there was no way they could reach the vaults through the doors. What about the walls, then? The vaults were all underground, so perhaps they could dig their way inside? He looked out the window, quietly observing the bank across the street.  
  
"Mocha, pixie dust, gillywater, peyote, liver, Parmesan cheese..."  
  
"You know, I think I'll just have a bottle of Lemonade." She took her bottle and walked out.  
  
"You 'ave peyote ice cream?" Dung asked surprised.  
  
"Yeah. You gotta be older than eighteen to buy it, though. The age wouldn't be a problem in 'er case." He made a face after the lady who had just left, and then he sighed and covered his eyes with his hands. "I 'ate my job, Dung, I 'ate it so much it scares me. Please tell me you 'ave good news."  
  
"That depends," Dung said, receiving a groan from Geoff. "Do you 'ave the keys to this place?"  
  
"No, but Fortesque always 'ang the keys in that cupboard over there. Why?"  
  
"I'd like to take a look at the cellar."  
  
Geoff handed him the keys, and stood guard by the cellar door while keeping an eye at the shop. The cellar was dark and infested with cobwebs and spiders, but the wall seemed promising. By using the four-point spell he found north, and a spot on the wall he thought would serve them well. Now all they needed was a key. With a copying spell they transformed a wooden spoon into a duplicate, and Geoff hurried to hang the keys back in the cupboard before Fortesque came back.  
  
"Now we're all set!" Dung smiled at Geoff. The younger boy smiled back, looking a little uncertain.  
  
"Hope we're not doing anything stupid," he muttered. "Mike'll kill me."  
  
****  
  
At six o'clock each night, Fortesque would close the doors to his shop and head home to his wife. And each night at seven o'clock, two shadows would emerge in the back yard, opening the same door once again. Quietly and with their heads low, the shadows would slink over to the cellar door and firmly close it behind them.  
  
They had worked methodically and hard for three whole nights. It took them two nights of fumbling to find out which spell to use to create the low and claustrophobic corridor through the soil. And finally on the third night their labour bore fruit as they encountered a hard surface in the earth.  
  
"Damn! This is it!" Geoff croaked, almost too exited to speak. "Sure there aren't any dragons down 'ere?"  
  
Dung focused on breathing for a few seconds. "'Course not!" he said, but his voice wasn't as steady as he had intended. "That's just rumours. And if it's true, at least we'll die a quick death."  
  
Geoff didn't look very relieved by these prospects.  
  
"Ready? Get away from the wall."  
  
The younger boy crawled back a few feet in the corridor they had made. Dung pointed his wand at the wall. "Reducto!"  
  
There was a loud crash and they were covered in dust, earth and stone. Dung choked and for a minute he was convinced he was going to die, but when he coughed out an air-refresher spell the air turned breathable again.  
  
"Bloody 'ell!" Dung could hear Geoff's furious voice from the darkness behind him. "You didn't remember to direct it away from us? Of all the stupid things you've done... I could've died!"  
  
"Put a sock in it, will ya? We're inside."  
  
Geoff turned silent. "See any dragons?" he asked with a thin voice.  
  
"No." In fact Dung couldn't see anything. "Lumos."  
  
It looked surprisingly like an ordinary cellar; dark, with a low ceiling, and wooden boxes lined up against the wall beside the hole. Dung crawled out and stood up while he tried to brush the dust out of his cloak. Geoff stuck his head out to take a closer look.  
  
"Must be a storage room," he muttered as he removed a spider from his hair.  
  
"Yeah... The stairs are over 'ere!"  
  
Together they reached the top of the stairs, where they found an ancient- looking, closed door. They glanced at each other nervously; neither of them wanted to be the person to open the door.  
  
"'Ow do we know which vault belonged to the spider-man?" Geoff asked suddenly.  
  
Dung hadn't thought of that. "I'm sure there's a sign on the door," he tried to reassure his friend.  
  
"But the goblin told you it was impossible to go through the doors without keys, didn't he? That some'at terrible would 'appen." Geoff looked sceptical. "I'm not sure 'bout this. I think they do 'ave dragons."  
  
"Are you a coward?"  
  
"No, I'm not!" Geoff's eyes flared with anger. "But I'm no fool either. Typical Gryffindor stupidity to get themselves killed needlessly."  
  
"Typical Slytherins to 'ide behind others and only come out when the danger's over."  
  
They stared at each other in hostility for a minute before simultaneously turning to the door again. "'Ow do we open it?" Dung muttered under his breath.  
  
"Try Alohomora."  
  
Dung laughed at Geoff's simple-mindedness. "This is the wizarding world's biggest bank! Do you 'onestly think a simple Alohomora's gonna open it? A spell even children can do?"  
  
"Shut up, and try it."  
  
Dung shook his head, but decided to do as Geoff had suggested; perhaps then he would keep quiet and let the adults make the decisions. His surprise was great when the door unlocked itself with a soft click. Geoff's expression was a mixture of triumph and anxiety as Dung laid his hand on the door.  
  
"Ready?"  
  
The younger boy nodded faintly and took a deep breath, as Dung slowly pushed it open. For a second he closed his eyes, half expecting to be attacked by a guarding reptile with a bad case of heartburn. When he opened them, he stared without really understanding.  
  
Geoff had started to laugh. "Bloody 'ell, you're the biggest fool to walk this earth since Boris the Bewildered!" he spat out in contempt. "I thought you used the four-point spell! You told me you did! I can't believe this." He walked into the room in front of them.  
  
"But I did!" Dung scratched his head, and followed him into the store. They were standing behind the counter of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "We were digging north-west all the time. There was no way we could miss it."  
  
Geoff snorted, and looked closer at one of the cloaks on display. "Well, we did... If it 'adn't been for the stupid rules on underage sorcery, I could've used my wand. Then perhaps we'd 'ave ended up in the right place." His voice was mocking, and Dung had to restrain himself not to bark back at him.  
  
"We 'ave to go back," he mumbled angrily. "We gotta make new plans."  
  
Geoff gave him a strange eye, and picked the cloak off its hanger. "I'll take this," he said. "Then at least this digging 'as been good for some'at. That skinny old 'ag won't even notice it anyway."  
  
Dung felt like a complete failure, and contemplated for a moment whether or not he should feel sorry for himself. Then he saw a pair of gloves on the counter, fingerless gloves in deep green leather. "Oy, these were nifty," he said cheerily and put them on.  
  
They closed the wall with a 'Reparo', and crawled back to the Parlor. Dung picked a bucket of peyote ice cream with him as they left.  
  
Geoff was grumpy, and with a short 'Good night' he left Dung by the stairs to his house. Dung just shrugged, and went up to his room to make more plans. After eating half of the bucket of ice cream he decided to do the planning the following morning instead, and take an early night. He had a good night indeed.  
  
****  
  
The next night Geoff got a big lump on his head as he was hit by a big rock from the ceiling. Frothing with anger he bit Dung in the leg, and for a moment they were almost fighting.  
  
"I 'ope there's a fucking Shortsnout out there! I 'ope it burns them stupid sideburns orf your face!"  
  
"Leave my sideburns alone, you twat," Dung replied sourly as he peered out through the cloud of dust.  
  
"Shut your face, or I'll shove this rock up your arse!"  
  
Dung had to push away a large object that stood in their way, and the light from his wand slowly filled the cellar. They could hear a humming sound from the large box and had to look closer. There was a heavy lid on top of it, and Geoff observed it sceptically and kicked at it with his foot.  
  
"What kind of devilry's this?" he asked, but Dung couldn't answer. He scanned it with his wand but could find no signs of dark magic, only a soft and tingling vibration tickling his hand. A sensation he recognised from excursions into Muggle London.  
  
"Electricity!"  
  
Carefully he opened it while Geoff was standing by. The younger boy's face was stern and serious, but when he saw the contents of the box his jaw dropped. The box was filled to the brim with food, and frost mist rose up and into the darkness above them.  
  
They closed the lid, and turned their eyes towards the stairs in the corner. Geoff seemed to be in deep thoughts and didn't go on about dragons anymore. Dung understood him; a box filled with frozen chicken and sausages didn't exactly bring on the image of raging reptiles. The door itself was painted in a hideously pink colour, and didn't even look marginally magical.  
  
Their eyes met for a second. Geoff had crossed his arms over his chest, and looked utterly bewildered. "What is this place?" he muttered.  
  
"Er, Alohomora." A click and the door swung open, revealing a room stuffed with objects. It looked like they had walked into a fleamarket; a mysterious collection of strange artefacts was scattered around the room, and the light from the wand bathed everything in a brooding semidarkness.  
  
"I've been 'ere before," Dung mumbled, dispirited. "We're not even in Diagon Alley anymore..."  
  
"We're in Muggle London?"  
  
Dung nodded. "A shop that sells used things."  
  
"What's this?" Geoff held up a metallic box with two holes on the top, and a switch on the side. They both stared at it, fascinated, and tried to guess what it was. Its long line fell down on the floor and the little crash broke the silence in a most unnerving manner. "This place gives me the heebies," Geoff said. "Let's get out."  
  
"I think it's some sort of communication device," Dung said absentmindedly. "Look at this switch; it goes up and down. Maybe it's one of them radios- "  
  
"Queenie spent a few weeks last summer at her Mudblood friend's 'ouse; why don't you ask 'er?"  
  
"Geoff, please-"  
  
"Sorry... Come on! Let's go!"  
  
Feeling slightly dejected they walked back to the cellar. Dung carried the mysterious object under his arm; he wanted to show it to Queenie. He hoped it was a radio; he had always wanted one. There was no electricity in his room, but one could buy batteries. A fabulous invention, batteries.  
  
Geoff was his usual grumpy self when they parted by the entrance to Knockturn Alley, but Dung had no intention to sleep yet. In a quick pace he walked up to Queenie's little flat, and was greeted by a girl who was in no better mood than her brother. But she took a look at the thing he had brought along.  
  
"It's a toaster," she said, uninterestedly. "It's used to make toast; you put the bread in there, and push this..." She showed him, and Dung was so disappointed he could cry.  
  
****  
  
"We gotta dig westward from 'ere." Dung made an invisible x on the wall of dirt, and Geoff groaned.  
  
"Why do I bother?" he muttered.  
  
"Defodio." Dung turned to him. "You bother 'cause it's gonna make you a rich man."  
  
They watched as a narrow corridor emerged in the soil, packing the dirt into hard walls on the sides. They wormed their way west whenever the corridor was big enough for them to continue. The soil seemed to be looser here, and they made a good speed. After another hour they hit a hard wall again.  
  
"Wait. Give me time to crawl back into safety," Geoff said in a sarcastic voice, and Dung cast an annoyed glimpse over his shoulder as he raised his wand hand. Two minutes later Geoff was back, plucking away pieces of rock from Dung's back. "You really 'ave to practise that spell before you kill somebody" he muttered dryly.  
  
Coughing, Dung landed in a heap on the floor of the cellar room, which was eerily similar to the one they had encountered the night before. Geoff didn't seem to be scared of dragons anymore, and walked whistling up the stairs. Dung gave him the eye, but Geoff just smiled back. "I 'ave a theory," he said as he waited for Dung to reach him at the top of the staircase.  
  
"Really?" Dung's voice was cold now. "What kind of theory would that be? Bet it's a very interesting and deep one."  
  
"Just open the bloody door. Then we'll se if I'm right."  
  
"Alohomora."  
  
They walked into yet another store and Dung tripped over a black cat hiding in the darkness; it ran away to the safety under the counter, hissing and spitting. "I was right," Geoff said as he watched a cage with sleeping rats. "The bank 'as protection spells and wards, you know. It doesn't matter 'ow long we dig, or in which direction we point the digging spell; we'll never reach it anyway. Impressive, really."  
  
Dung stared with his mouth open into the stern face of an impressive barn owl. "Hoot?" she said, and he tore at his hair.  
  
"It ain't fair! It ain't bloody fair."  
  
"Now, now," Geoff replied calmly and tickled a newt on its tail. "I thought we'd already agreed life isn't fair. Fancy a rat? Or an owl, perhaps?"  
  
Dung snorted so loudly that the rats woke up. "You don't even seem to care!"  
  
"I'm just glad I'm not dragon-chow by now. You don't want a rat? Then let's get back."  
  
It was a glum and brooding Dung that sealed the cellar wall and made his way back to the Parlor. All this work for nothing. Well, it hadn't been all for nothing; he did have a rather nice pair of gloves, though. Those would have cost him at least five Galleons, and the thought cheered him up a little. He also had a completely useless toaster; perhaps he could charm it to run without electricity? Another box of peyote ice cream now would save the day.  
  
"Reparo." Once again the wall in the Parlor cellar was whole, and the two boys turned to leave.  
  
When someone in the corner coughed. "Unusual rodents in this basement..."  
  
A drawling man's voice. The two boys stiffened, and tried to see who the man was. He was covered by the shadows, but when he used his wand to light his cigarette they could see the official uniform of a Hit-wizard.  
  
Geoff groaned and suddenly seemed to be weak in his knees. "I swear I'll never do anything like this again! Don't tell my stepfather," Geoff said shakily. "'E'll kill me! Please don't!"  
  
Dung stared at his old friend in disbelief. "Slytherins," he muttered under his breath.  
  
The hit-wizard took Geoff's name and address, and ordered him to stop by the Hit-wizard's office in Diagon Alley the following morning. Then he let him go.  
  
"Have you no shame?" the grown man asked Dung. "That boy wasn't older than fourteen, why did you drag him along into a stunt like this? How old are you, seventeen? Old enough to know better, I'm sure. Breaking and entering; that gives you two to six months in Azkaban, didn't you know that?"  
  
Dung swallowed. "I 'ave the right to a solicitor," he croaked.  
  
The Hit-wizard grinned. "This isn't a murdercase, young man... Come upstairs."  
  
The man led the way, and Dung sullenly followed. The wizard directed him into Fortesque's office, and lit the fire in the grate. Dung watched as Fortesque's face turned up amongst the flames.  
  
"Ah, James Figg, old friend!" Fortesque exclaimed. "Found anything, have you?"  
  
"You had a rat in your cellar, Florean," the Hit-wizard said, amused. "Perhaps you should come over, and we'll decide whether to call in the cats or not."  
  
A few minutes later Fortesque apparated into his shop. "I know you!" he said when he saw Dung. "You're a friend of that no-good, lazy lad I was unfortunate enough to hire last week. It was you, eh? Do you know how much that ice cream was worth? It costs me five Galleons a pound! So by my reckoning you owe me twenty-five Galleons."  
  
Dung closed his eyes. It wasn't supposed to end like this.  
  
"Do you want to press charges, Mr. Fortesque? Or perhaps we can sort this out in private?" The Hit wizard's voice turned professional again.  
  
Fortesque rubbed his chin, and gave Dung a calculating eye. "I do need another hand in the shop," he muttered. "But I'm not sure I trust this fellow here. He would need to be guarded all the time, and I don't have the time to watch him constantly."  
  
"I'm sure his friend wouldn't mind helping you with that, Mr. Fortesque," Figg said with a smile.  
  
"'Ey!" Dung was furious, but thought better of it and shut up. Neither of the two men paid any attention to him anyway, and Fortesque continued.  
  
"Well, I expect to see him here at eight o'clock tomorrow morning, then."  
  
"At eight o'clock tomorrow morning I'll be sleeping in my bed," Dung muttered angrily.  
  
"You'll have plenty of time to sleep if they put you in Azkaban," Figg replied with a cold voice. "Maybe you prefer that solution?"  
  
Dung swallowed again. "Eight o'clock it is," he said faintly.  
  
They let him go. It was pitch black outside, the night air was warm and the stars had emerged in the sky. Dung had no desire to sleep, and apparated back to his room. Under his bed he found the half-full bucket of ice cream, encapsulated by a freezing charm. Should he return it, and maybe shorten his punishment? He decided not to.  
  
He apparated back into Diagon Alley, walked up the stairs to Queenie's room and knocked carefully at the door. "You sleeping?" he asked when she peered out.  
  
"Obviously not."  
  
"Want ice cream?"  
  
"Oh, yes please!" She smiled and let him inside. "But I can't stay up late, though. I've got work tomorrow, you know."  
  
"So 'ave I."  
  
"You found a job? That's great! Where?"  
  
"At the Parlor." Dung wished he hadn't mentioned it.  
  
"With Geoff? What flavour is it?"  
  
"Er... Peyote, actually."  
  
She stared at him. "You mean Mescaline?" She looked at the bucket in his hand with newfound interest, and found two bowls and spoons. "Not so much! Thanks."  
  
They sat down on her bed, and ate their ice cream without speaking. After finishing, they lay beside each other on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "I don't feel anything," she muttered.  
  
"'Course not, you 'ardly touched it," he muttered. His head had started to spin pleasantly, and he closed his eyes.  
  
She giggled. "I'm a terrible coward, aren't I?"  
  
"Yeah," he answered with a smile.  
  
"You like me anyway, don't you?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Berk." She leaned over him and planted a kiss on his lips. Then she looked at him for a while. "Are you sleeping?"  
  
"Yeah." He grinned softly.  
  
"Berk," she repeated, and kissed him again.  
  
Sometimes, Dung thought, life's just...all right. 


End file.
